


Happy Birthday, Marco Bodt

by glitchfics



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Food mention, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchfics/pseuds/glitchfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's June 16, more importantly known as Marco Bodt's birthday. Jean is more than happy to shower him in kisses and presents for an entire day, and to continue <i>well</i> into the night. But his biggest surprise is the very last thing that Marco would ever expect from him, and everything else pales in comparison. Warning for a shit ton of cute, gooey, hot, dorky boyfriends being in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Marco Bodt

“Guess who’s motherfucking birthday it is?!” is not a pleasant thing to have screamed in your face at 8 am on a Tuesday (nothing really is). And I mean _screamed_. If someone was typing it out, it’d be in all caps.

My head shoots off the pillow, breath catching in my throat. I can feel how startled I look, even while I’m blinking furiously. I relax and fall back against the pillow when I realize it’s just Jean, a wide grin stretched across his face while he straddles me with all of his limbs.

I close my eyes and yawn, smiling back at him. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

He flops onto my chest, kissing my cheek. “Worth it, birthday boy.”

I groan. “Please don’t make a big deal about it. My family’s already got that covered.”

“But you always make a big deal out of my birthdays.”

“No-” I chuckle. “I do one simple, yet grand, gesture.”

Jean pulls a face and drops his voice dopily. “‘One simple, yet grand, gesture’ my ass.” He kisses my jaw sweetly. “You like to get all special about it.”

“Maybe.”

“That means ‘yes’ in Marco, I’ve come to find out. The point is, I have a whole day of birthday fun for you and you’re going to love all of it.”

“Mhmm.”

“Now get up. Your big, strong man hunted some wild birthday pancakes this morning while the princess was sleeping.”

“Who’s the princess?”

“You.”

I roll my eyes, nudging Jean off of me so that I can sit up. “I’m gonna let that one slide.”

“I think you like it.” He crawls off of the bed and bounces over to the doorway.

The floorboards of our apartment creak under my feet as I get up and stoop to grab a pair of shorts off of the floor and tug them on. “How did you even manage to wake up before me?” I ask, following Jean into the little post stamp of a kitchen that only actually gets cooked in by me.

“Well, the fact that I turned off your alarm might have helped. That way I didn’t have to worry about beating the man who wakes up at 6 am sharp every day.”

The middle of our little kitchen table is being completely taken over by a platter (mom once visited and got pissed we didn’t already own one, so we now own a platter, as of last Christmas) stacked high with a ridiculous amount of pancakes. Way more pancakes that we could ever eat, and I’m including Jean with his borderline-fetish love of breakfast food. Plus toppings. Every kind of berry, whipped cream, peanut butter, chocolate chips, and at least two kinds of syrup. I feel a hot mug of tea being pushed into my hand. 

“You just had to go all out didn’t you?”

“Go all out on IHOP for the pancakes and the grocery store for the toppings? Yes.”

I wrap an arm around him and crane my neck so I can kiss him. “I still love it.”

His hand curls around my side, creeping over my stomach and flattening right above the waistband of my shorts while we kiss. I can feel his lips parting against mine, a soft breath escaping him. As much as I want to continue, _one_ of us has to keep our head. 

“Ah ah. You made special breakfast, and we’re gonna eat it.”

“Fuck. If no breakfast means I get to keep kissing you, I’ll pitch those pancakes out of the window.”

I kiss his ear, smiling when he shivered. “Promise we’ll continue later. Plus, there’s no doubt in my mind that you have something along those lines planned for later anyways.” Something that I’m looking forward to. Quite a bit, actually.

“I might,” he murmurs, walking away so that he could pull out my chair.

“Thank you, sir.” I sit down and fork a few pancakes onto my plate, topping them with berries and syrup, which Jean makes a face at.

“Berries and syrup is just wrong,” he says around a mouthful of pancakes and every chocolate topping he could fit on them.

“Says the man who’s about to slip in a chocolate coma.”

Breakfast is only a fraction of the birthday day Jean put together. He might be a sarcastic little shit (pardon my French), but he can pull an adorable birthday montage together like nobody’s business. I’m talking cuter than a Nicholas Sparks movie reenacted by only puppies. 

After all the pancakes that we can manage have been eaten, and the rest put in the fridge, I’m told to shower so we can head out. Where? No clue.

“Do I stink that badly?”

Wiry arms wrap around me, and Jean tucks his nose against my neck. “Mm, definitely.”

I can feel him smiling against my skin.

“You reek, babe. All nice and kind of minty and a little like clean laundry.”

My cheeks warm, and I laugh softly. 

“Is that your flustered laugh I hear? Have I still got enough charm in me to make Marco Bodt blush?”

“Oh hush. I’ll take a shower. But only because it’s part of your nutty birthday plan.”

The shower? Full of all of my favorite shower products ever. _All of them_.

Jean is just leaning up against the doorframe trying not to grin like he’s pleased as peaches about being the best boyfriend ever. He kind of completely fails at not smiling like an idiot when I scoop him up and squeeze him hard enough that I hear his breath catch.

“God, you’re too nice to me.”

“There is no such thing as being _too nice_ to Marco Bodt.”

So I finish my shower, walk out of the bathroom, and there’s this white box on the bed. It's been tied up with a black ribbon that’s just a little wonky. I put on some jeans before opening it, raising an eyebrow when I lift it out from its box. The eyebrow only goes higher when I actually put it on and look in the mirror. “Jean?!”

He pops into the room. “What?” Hazel eyes drift down to the shirt and he chews at his lip. “Holy shit.”

"‘Holy shit" is right. The shirt is a generic white t-shirt, except it’s just a hair away from being obscenely tight. I don’t know if it’s possible to find a shirt that can make you look like _freaking Chris Evans_ (who may or may not be the one person Jean gave me permission to have sex with if I’m ever trapped in an elevator with him), but Jean has found it. And I can’t tell if the idea of wearing it anywhere but the house makes me feel absolutely amazing or ridiculous. 

“Okay, I did buy it for you because I know that scene in the _Avengers_ where Chris Evans is just going at the punching bag in that white t-shirt is your all time favorite, but...” He walks up behind me, openly admiring me in a way that forces my eyes to flick from his so that I don’t end up taking him right now and wasting the rest of the day that he seems to have planned. “... I think I might have accidentally just bought a present for myself.” 

I snort, looking over my shoulder at him. "You realize that this is the equivalent of that guy who buys his wife lingerie as a present? You're that guy, honey."

"Well, do you feel like a forty year old woman whose lawyer husband bought her sexy lingerie for their weekend away from the kids?"

My hands prop themselves on my hips, and I let a smile creep onto my lips. "A little bit. Mostly I feel pretty dang good. I'll go out in this, but only if you promise not to parade me around like your trophy wife. I'm 40 years old, I'm getting too tired for your shenanigans, lawyer husband."

Jean laughs and stretches up on his toes, resting his chin on my shoulder while his hands skim down my arms. “I promise not to show you off _too_ much, but it’s not my fault if I happen to be attached at the hip to the hottest man in Chicago. Actually, in the continental U.S. Or the planet. Or the fucking universe.”

Did I mention that he’s the best boyfriend ever? Because I’m going to say it again. “Shh. Stop buttering me up.” But I can feel myself smiling.

“You sound just like your mom. Can’t handle flattery.”

“Can’t handle _overwhelming_ flattery,” I correct him. “You’re too charming.”

Jean rolls back on his heels. “Alright, Mrs. Bodt, put on some shoes; let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“Do you really think I’d tell you?”

“Hoping to get lucky.”

“You aren’t getting any kind of lucky until tonight.”

Oh. _Oh_.

So we walk to the park, but once we get to the entrance Jean stops us and blindfolds me more of that black ribbon that was tied around the white box.

“C’mon, I’m not gonna let you trip.”

“I know you aren’t; I trust you.”

We walk for awhile, but I’m pretty sure it just feels like awhile because I can’t see anything. I stumble into Jean’s back when he stops in front of me.

“Sorry, probably should have told you we were stopping.”

“It’s fi-” Before I finish, the blindfold is pulled from my eyes. The first thing I notice isn’t how bright the sun seems after I’ve had the ribbon over my eyes, or how we’re in a part of the park that I’ve never seen before, or how Jean is bouncing on his toes a little bit next to me. It’s what looks like _hundreds_ of sheets of paper suspended in midair, swaying softly in the breeze. 

I cock my head and step closer, reaching up to catch one in my hand and turn it. They’re all hung from the trees with fishing line, it looks like. I turn the sheet over, realizing it’s not an ordinary piece of paper, but a picture. The first picture of us together, to be exact. Jean looked all sulky, even though you can tell he’s hiding a smile. His hair was shorter then, and he’s just started lightening the top of it. And me? I’m all lean because I’d just hit my growth spurt and stretched out, and tanner than I am now because summer had only just ended. We were only fifteen then; it was sophomore year.

My fingers catch at another picture. This time it’s a blurry picture of us kissing at a party, no doubt taken by Sasha or Connie, who can be found at every party ever snapping pictures of unsuspecting partygoers at various levels of wasted. 

I keep looking through them. All of them. There’s one where Jean dyed his hair green temporarily because he was mad at me, but he ended up looking like an albino carrot. Me passed out on the couch. Jean looking nervous as anything while he holds my infant nephew and I take a selfie with them. Me in my suit for my parents’ vow renewal. Us in bed after sex (I can tell because Jean’s hair is extra wild and my face might be a little flushed). Me laughing with food in my mouth (I might have to flick his nose for that one).

“So, do you like it?”

I turn to face him. “C’mere.”

“What?”

“Just come here.”

The second he gets close enough I cup his face in my hands and stroke my thumbs over his cheeks, bringing his face up to mine so that I can kiss the daylights out of him. I kiss him like I’ve never kissed him before, and I can feel the way he props his hands against my chest and the way he turns his head just a little bit so our lips fit together perfectly and the way he’s so close that the tips of his shoes are brushing the tips of mine. And I don’t want to stop but I have to tell him how much I love it, how much it means.

“This is amazing,” I breathe between kisses. “You’re amazing.”

Jean broke away for a second, leaning up against my chest. “Are you… crying?” His finger brushes my face and comes away wet.

I sniff a bit, smiling at him. “Just a little bit. Because I love you.”

His eyes went all soft. “Don’t cry, please.”

“But they’re happy tears.”

“They had better be.”

I sit down in the grass at his feet, grabbing his hand and tugging gently. “Lay in the grass with me.”

“Grass makes me all itchy.”

“Okay.” I lay back on the ground, opening my arms. “Lay on me then.”

He grins and kneels, straddling my hips so that he can lay across my chest, his chin fitting against my collarbone. “Ask me how I did it.” Jean wiggles against me like an excited five year old. 

“Alright, how did you do it? Where did you even get all of the pictures? And all that fishing line? And how’d you hang them all from the trees?” 

“Connie and Sash helped with finding the pictures and getting them developed; Reiner got me a discount on like, a billion feet of fishing line because he’s doing that marketing internship with that outdoorsy company; Armin and Mikasa helped me hole punch and tie fishing line to all of the pictures - Eren tried to help but he got bored of sitting and tying knots, and Bert helped me tie them all up in the trees.”

“Looks like I have everyone to thank.”

“You might get a chance.”

“What?”

“I’m not saying a word more.”

“Okay, I won’t foil your plan.” I tip his chin up so I can kiss him again, and I don’t stop kissing him until he looks at his watch and makes us stop because the birthday-to-top-all-birthdays must go on.

After the park we go out to lunch at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant that’s become our favorite ever since Sasha started working there for three reasons. Discounts, extra fries, and Sasha’s an amazing cook. Extra fries happens to be Jean’s favorite reason. By the way, he has Sasha toast a _heart_ into the bun on my sandwhich. 

After lunch? Cake sampling. He gets me salted caramel because he knows it’s my favorite. He dabs frosting on my nose with his pinky, and smiles at me with gooey eyes, and makes sure we sit at a table by the window because it’s warm and sunny just like I like it.

I lick a bit of frosting off of my thumb. “This is really sweet.”

“I know, but I know that’s how you like salted caramel stuff. Sometimes it’s too salty and you make that face.”

“I meant this is really sweet _of you_. And I do not make a face!”

“Oh, well it’s your birthday. You deserve it. And you do to make a face! It’s like this.” He tips his brows up in the middle and curls his lip just a little bit. Barely enough to notice.

“You make that face!”

“No, I’d notice if I did.”

“Fine, yours is more like this.” I furrow my brow and narrow my eyes a bit, but I curl my lip just barely like he did.

“If I do that weird thing with my mouth, it’s because it rubbed off on me from you.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Aha! So you admit it.” He folds his arms triumphantly.

“No. I admit it could be a possibility.”

“Mhmm.” Jean stands and tosses the little paper his sample came in into a trashcan behind him. “You finished?”

“Yep.” I take the hand he offers me and walk out, smiling when he starts swinging our hands just a little bit. “You seem...”

“What?”

“I don’t know, different today. You’re all smiley; I haven’t seen your cute little scowl once.”

He frowned and did a little pout at me. “There, now you’ve seen it. And I don’t know. Just happy to spend your birthday with you. Happy to walk around with the actual tan, freckled Chris Evans. Happy I got to buy you lunch and cake.” 

I lean over to kiss his temple, smiling against his hair. I love blissful Jean. You know, I don’t always get to see this Jean. He’s kind of this combination between high strung and tightly wound all the time, which is why he has what Connie calls “resting bitch face”.

The entire rest of the day goes like this. Adorable. Full of kisses. Presents and surprises abound. He pays a violinist on the street corner to play us a song. I feel like we’ve walked all over Chicago and seen all of the best things to see. I feel like we’re in one of the romantic flicks that Jean snorts at when I scroll past them on Netflix. I feel really, really loved. And I know how corny that sounds, even for me.

“Why don’t we head back to the apartment?”

“Is this the next phase of your plan?” Jean looks like he’s hiding a smile.

“Yes. And you’re going to be a good birthday princess and ask no questions.”

I raise my hands in submission. “No questions. Just blindly following.”

By this time it was evening and we had worked our way back close to the apartment, so it wasn’t too much of a walk before we took the five flights of stairs it takes to get to our “welcome home” mat.

“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go,” Jean starts once we walk in. “You’re going to put on something just a little fancy. Then you’re going to leave with Bert and Reiner. And I will see you when I see you.” He grabs the front of my shirt and kisses me soundly, pulling away so he can grin at me. 

“I do this with the expectation that all will be revealed,” I murmur, winking at him before I turn on my heel and walk into our bedroom. Okay, okay, he said “just a little fancy”. Knowing Jean that could mean “put on nicer shoes” or it could mean “put on a full tux”. I settle for a fitted lavender button down and grey slacks with black oxfords. Fancy enough? We’ll see.

I don’t get to ask Jean because the second I walk out of our room, Bert and Reiner grab me by the arms and haul me out through the front door.

“Hey! I would’ve come willingly.”

Reiner laughs, which is a noise I would flinch at if I wasn’t already so used to the bawdy clap of thunder. “Jean said to make it like we were kidnapping you for ransom.” Bert nods on the other side of me, as if I wouldn’t believe that Jean would use an analogy like that. 

“Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“Rose Hall,” Bert says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Isn’t that that huge old town hall-slash-church? I don’t even know what they use it for anymore.”

“Well-” Reiner starts, but Bert reaches behind me to grip his shoulder. “I wasn’t goin’ to spoil anything.”

“Spoil what?”

“Well-”

“Goodness Reiner, keep quiet.” But Bert was smiling just a little bit.

“Ah, I was just going to tease him a bit.”

I figure it’s best to just kind of stop asking by now, or else Reiner will pretend to start telling me and Bert will keep doing that little smile at him and telling him to stop and it will devolve into them just flirting with each other over my head.

Eventually we get to Rose Hall, which is one of the grandest buildings I've ever seen, despite the crumbling stone. It could use some love, but part of its beauty is the strength with which it must cling to Chicago to have hung around this long. I'm enjoying the view quite a bit when Reiner claps me on the back with his broad grin and raises his eyebrows at Bertholdt.

"Release the kraken."

Bert rolls his eyes. "That didn't make sense." But he pushes both doors open with a dramatic heave, revealing the I-have-no-idea-how-many people who stand up to scream "surprise!". Everyone I've ever even looked at is here. Sasha, Connie, Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Annie, Ymir, Historia, Bert and Reiner of course, even my family is bouncing and clapping in the crowd. My _whole_ family. Mom; all of my siblings, Matt, Sam, and Tobin; my grandparents; my nephew and my sister-in-law. _Everyone_. Well, almost everyone. Even once I've walked in and milled about a bit, I still don't see Jean anywhere. This has him written all over it. A day of birthday surprises leading up to the big finale. 

Hands wrap around my shoulders to pull me down a bit, and my mother kisses my cheek. “Oh, my baby is 25! You’re so grown up, Marco.” She kisses my cheek again, her brown eyes shining up at me. “This is just like with your big brother. The second Matt turned 25 it really hit me that he was so grown up. _Really_ grown up.”

“Ma!” I hug her and laugh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that; Matt was gone the second he turned 18!”

“He went to the naval academy. I am not picking up and and going off to war anytime soon.”

She pats my chest. “Alright, but I’m still asking Jean to keep an eye on you. I wonder where he is. Maybe you can get a bite to eat while you wait for him to turn up.” She winks at me and turns around when Jack, my little nephew, starts calling for her. 

An impressive spread is laid out across a few tables off to the side of the room, which is undoubtedly where I find Sasha and Connie, both of them with full plates. The second I get close enough another plate of food is thrust into my hands. 

“Jean made us get all your favorites, so you had better eat, freckle man,” Connie says around his bite of shortbread. 

“Hey, where is Jean, by the way?”

Sasha - who is a horrible liar - looks like she knows something. “Probably trying to grow a pair.”

Connie cackles, I swear those two are like hyenas. “Shh.”

“What? I’m just saying he must be feeling pretty ballsy tonight.”

A snort from Connie and one of Sash’s snickery giggles.

I don’t even bother asking what’s going on this point because Sasha _will_ crack and I’d hate to ruin Jean’s surprise, whatever it is that everyone seems to know about. I might not have to wait very long, because I can hear a swell of noise near the doors, and when I walk closer I can see the top of a blonde head bobbing through everyone.

“Hey, babe,” Jean says, beaming at me and reaching up to peck my lips. “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I just had to pick something up.”

“It’s fine, I’ve only been here for a half an hour. And is it your big surprise you were picking up?”

He pales. “Big surprise? What do you mean?”

“Everyone’s just being really weird and secretive; I figured you had something planned.”

“I do. And I suppose now’s a good a time as any to give you your surprise.”

“Well I’m ready for it.”

Jean takes my hand with a shaky sigh, leading me up in front of everyone. “I hope you mean that.” 

Once Bert sees that Jean and I are standing up in front of everyone, he pokes Reiner, who promptly shushes everyone in the loudest way possible. Every pair of eyes is trained on us, and I can feel Jean practically vibrating with nervous energy beside me. I know how much he hates public speaking, even if it's just in front of friends and family. He shifts from foot to foot before turning to face me.

"Marco, I have known you since high school. We met at the beginning of freshman year in Spanish, and I kind of thought you were a huge ass-kisser because you were really good at it and I was really awful at it." He chuckles, and it belays how anxious he still seems. "Years later and you're still much better at Spanish, and still great at ass kissing." Reiner's laugh boomed from somewhere in the huddle of people. "We started dating somewhere in sophomore year because I was really into guys that could nail me in the head with a soccer ball from across the field in gym class."

I hide my laughter behind my hand. I had felt really horrible about it, honestly. But it might have been just a little funny to me to see the scowl knocked loose from his face for just a second.

"You helped me not flunk Spanish. You took me to prom, and you were so confident about it that I was too. I helped you not die at the hands of your textbooks finals week. You told me that if we went to different colleges it would be okay - even though it was hard to imagine not seeing you all the time. We did end up going to the same school, and I remember missing your stupid freckley face when you went on your Spanish major trip. I remember renting our first apartment together, which is when I learned exactly how ridiculously early you wake up. I remember much more recently when I bought you pancakes and dragged you all over Chicago just so that I could get you here and give you your last surprise." 

He sucks in a breath and smiles at me, slowly sinking to one knee. 

Oh my- _holy_... Is he? A slim-fingered hand slips into the back pocket of his black slacks, and Jean pulls out a tiny velvet box. You know _the_ tiny velvet box. He fumbles it open, and I say "fumbles" because I think he's having a heart attack. 

"Surprise," he murmurs, softly, so that only I can hear it. "Marco Bodt, will you marry me?" The question he says loud enough for everyone to hear, and their bated breath makes everything seem even louder in comparison. I'm pretty sure I can hear my pulse trembling in my throat.

"Yes." The first time I say it, it comes out raspy and soft. "Yes." The second time it's firmer, louder, even though I can barely talk because I'm grinning so hard at Jean. I pull him up to his feet and twine my arms around his waist, pressing him close so I can crane my neck and kiss him.

"Oh thank god," he murmurs when we part, taking my left hand in his and slipping the ring onto my finger.

"It's beautiful." And it is. The band is thick and silver with a small, a dark sapphire set into the ring. It's perfect. "I love you."

"I love you too." 

It takes a moment before the sound of clapping and whistling filters into the bubble of quiet and soft smiles that's been ballooned around us ever since Jean sank to his knee. We turn back to face everyone, and I can feel my face getting red when Jean takes my hand and lifts it high triumphantly. It isn't two seconds before my mom rushes over, dragging my step dad behind her. She grabs my shoulders to pull me down and kiss my cheek, doing the same to Jean. 

"I finally get to call you my son-in-law," she said happily. "I've been waiting for the day."

The rest of the night is a blur of congratulations and people taking my hand to admire the ring. Reiner claps both of us on the back so hard I think a few vital organs were lost. Connie and Sasha just laugh their asses off coming up with scenarios for our married life. Like Jean and I in color coordinated polos with sweaters tied over our shoulders while we grill burgers for the neighbourhood barbecue. 

"Who do you think we are, Erwin and Levi?" Jean snorts and sips on his beer. His comment earns a glare from a certain tiny, raven-haired someone, who is accompanied by a much larger, blonde someone (and for the record, Erwin actually was wearing a blue polo).

Eventually people start to trickle out, and Jean has Sasha and Connie take the rest of the food while Bert and Reiner help fold up and load the tables into the back of Reiner's truck. We're left alone in the giant hall, and I'm sitting on the steps when Jean walks back over to me.

"Hey, fiancé."

"Sounds so weird to hear it." I pull him down beside me and kiss his cheek. "It's a very good kind of weird."

"We're you surprised?"

"Was I surprised? God, yes. I didn't wake up this morning thinking I was going to be proposed to by Jean Kirchstein. But I'm glad I was. Really glad." I let my head tip against his shoulder, and his fingers run through my hair lightly. 

"Good. Because you're the only person I can imagine waking up next to for the rest of my life." He taps my shoulder so I sit up, standing and offering his hand to me. The car ride home is quiet except for the soft sound of music trickling from the speakers. Jean's holding my hand, and his thumb is rubbing sweet circles into the back of my hand. We get back to the apartment, and he leads me across the threshold, turning to face me after he locks the door behind us.

"There might be one more surprise." 

My eyes have already caught sight of the rose petals scattered carefully across the floor leading up to our bedroom. I look over at him, following the petals and pushing open the door gingerly when he nods. _And oh my god_. I expected petals leading up to the bed. Maybe even dusted over the bed, but not this. The entire floor is carpeted with a layer of velvet-soft red. Candles and tea lights dot every surface, all of them flickering at once, creating enough soft, romantic light that I don't even think of flipping the switch by the door. I walk over to the bed, running my hand over a creamy silk sheet dotted with a few rose petals.

Jean pads up behind me, resting his hands on my hips and rubbing them slowly. "I had someone drop by and light these on their way back from the party. What do you think?" 

I turn around, kissing him soundly. "I think I'm about to give you the best sex of your life."

He chuckles, one of his hands slipping from my hips to ghost over my crotch. "No, _I'm_ going to give _you_ the best sex of _your_ life."

"You mean?"

"Fuck yeah," he purrs. "You're going to be my hot little bottom tonight."

 _Oh_. I almost never bottom. Not to say I don't like it, because when we're both in the mood to switch _oh my god_ it's amazing. And we are both clearly in the right kind of mood. Plus Jean gets dominant when he tops and it makes me so hot I think I'll melt. And right now he's started rubbing my dick through my slacks, his hazel eyes dark and molten as he gazes up at me.

I bite my lip when he slides his hand away and up my front, catching at the first button of my dress shirt and tweaking it so that it falls open.

"Shame, I really like this color on you." He undoes a few more buttons, kissing his way down my chest as he goes. He works his way lower and lower and lower. I shrug the shirt off, dropping it on to the rose petals and watching as Jean's hands hover over the button of my pants. He looks up through his dark lashes and winks, standing back up without even touching it.

"Oh, so you're teasing me now?"

He laughs lowly. "It's only payback for all the times you've teased me." Jean traces my nipple with his pinky, and I can feel my breath catch in my throat. "And believe me, I intend to tease you as much as absolutely possible. Now-" He brushes his lips across my collarbone. "Take off your shoes and lay on the bed, and I'll be back in a minute."

I raise my eyebrows, but comply when he disappears into the bathroom. Shoes and socks are left neatly by the side of the bed, and I prop my back against the pillows, closing my eyes and tipping my head back while I wait for him. Floorboards creak, and I open my eyes, peering in front of the bed.

"Thought I said _lay_ down," he murmurs. Jean's taken off his shirt and shoes so that he's just in his slacks, the same as me. "On your stomach."

Rose petals brush my skin as I slide down from the pillows and turn over onto my stomach. I might be showboating a bit, but I can't help but arch my ass up and look over my shoulder at Jean. He crawls over and straddles the backs of my thighs, and his hands cup my ass through my pants.

"Mm. Of course you know your ass is fan-fucking-tastic. Can't help yourself, can you?"

I don't answer, wanting to get a rise out of him.

He sinks his nails into my lower back, and I can tell he's being careful not to press too hard. "Can you?" 

"No," I whine softly. "I can't."

"That's what I thought." Jean bends over my back, pressing a kiss to each crescent mark left by his nails in my skin.

I can hear something being opened behind me, like a cap flipping up. For a second I think it's lube, but then something warm and slick glides across the tops of my shoulders. A pleasant shudder runs through my body as hands begin to knead my shoulders. The aroma of vanilla and spices fills the air, and I sigh heavily, breathing it in deeply. "What is that?"

"Vanilla and pumpkin pie massage oil. Do you like it?"

His hands are working some kind of magic, and a soft moan escapes me against one of our pillows. "I love it." The feeling of his hands working out every shred of stress that's ever collected in my back is making me feel loose and drowsy, but the vanilla and pumpkin spice is kind of going straight to my dick. And I know it's not just me, because Jean is sporting a bit of a bulge himself, and it's pressed against my ass.

"Why- Why the hell didn't you do this to me before today?"

He laughs softly. "I've been taking classes. I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm engaged to the best man in the world."

"Not really. I am."

I would get into an "I love you more" contest with him if I wasn't wordless with bliss once his hands found the tense spot just under my left shoulder. "Oh god, Jean." He keeps working, and there's no part of my back he hasn't explored and massaged thoroughly. Eventually I feel his weight slide from the backs of my thighs, and Jean walks across the room to wipe his hands of the massage oil on a towel. I sit up to watch him, and he pads around behind me, gently wiping a bit of the excess oil from my back. His lips dust the back of my neck with soft kisses, and my eyelids flutter. 

Jean stands again and slips his slacks off, crawling back across the bed and pressing his hand to my chest until I lay back. His lips are peppering kisses down my front, just like he'd done when he was unbuttoning my shirt. Except this time he doesn't stop when he gets to the button of my pants. He undoes it deftly, dragging the zipper down with his teeth and looking up at me while he does it. I pick up my hips, the silken lining of my slacks brushing heated skin as I shove them off, letting Jean pull them down the rest of the way and drop them off of the end of the bed.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you realize that, right?”

 _Ten years_. Ten years with this man and I can still feel my cheeks heat up when he compliments me, especially when his voice is low and warm like it is right now. He’s so turned on he can’t keep it out of his voice, and I love it. “I don’t know if I believe you,” I murmur, baiting him.

Hands slide up, propping themselves on my thighs. “What’s there not to believe?” Jean dips his head to kiss along the hem of my boxer briefs. “Only perfection deserves all of these fucking rose petals. Takes a long ass time to create this kind of romantic ambiance.” 

I want to keep bantering with him, but every time I open my mouth to speak, his lips wander just a little closer to the bulge in the front of my underwear. “I- _Damn_.” He mouths at the head of my cock through the thin fabric, pulling away to admire the damp spot he’s created. One of his hands has left my thigh, creeping up to tug the white boxer briefs down and off. 

“Maybe just a little more teasing, how ‘bout it?” Jean winks at me, his hand circling the base of my cock.

I groan, and the sound catches in my throat and intensifies when he takes me into his mouth all at once, sucking slowly as he pulls off. His tongue runs up the underside of my shaft, the tip of it flicking along the head. I can tell he’s sporting that devilish little grin of his when he sits up and wriggles out of his underwear. Meanwhile, I’m left rock hard and practically squirming for his touch. Which is probably the point. He’s kneeling between my legs now and running lube slick fingers over his dick after sheathing himself with a condom, reaching across me to set the small bottle down on the bedside table.

My breathing quickens when his finger presses against my entrance, dipping in shallowly before pushing all the way in slowly. Jean pushes another in, and I’m rocking against his hand now. “Exactly how ready are you for my cock?”

“So ready.”

“How ready?”

I clench around his fingers and moan softly. My eyes open so that I can look up at him. “So ready.”

His gaze licks up my body like fire, and my dick twitches at the nod he gives me. A hand props against the back of my thigh; I can feel him easing in, hear the way his breathing changes.

“Jean.” I breathe his name once he’s filling me completely, his hips pressed to me. My hand reaches, and I twine my fingers through his with a soft sigh. 

Jean begins thrusting slowly, bringing our hands up to his lips and kissing my engagement ring. Warmth ripples out from where his lips brush my skin. My head tips back against the pillows, and I turn my face to rest it on his pillow, inhaling deeply. I’ve come to this realization so many times before, but it seems more poignant now with his scent flooding my senses, the strange heaviness of the ring around my finger, the warm bulk of him against me, the extraordinary feeling of him inside of me. _I love him_. More than anything else in the world. In a different way than I’ve ever loved anyone before.

"More."

"More what?"

"More please." I squeeze his hand, my breath devolving into shallow panting when Jean obliges and picks up his pace. He pushes himself deeper, and I moan loudly, curling my toes. "Yes, yes." Just watching the way lean muscles flex and shift fluidly under his skin, the way he furrows his brow in concentration, the way his lips are just barely parted is helping get me off. My back arched off the bed a bit when I felt his cock glide against my prostate _perfectly_. "Like that," I gasp, my free hand tightening around the silk sheets I'm laid on top of.

Jean listens, continuing to thrust and pick his hips just a little bit, capitalizing on the sweet spot he'd discovered. "Does my little bottom like that?"

I can only muster a whimper, rocking into him, each breath hitching just barely in my throat, soft, breathy moans escaping me. It's been so long since I bottomed, and every time we do, Jean makes me wonder why we don't more often. Because, excuse my language, but this man _fucks me so right every time_. My brain is donating all of it's resources to moving with him and feeling utter pleasure pumping through every vein of my body.

"You're so hot, Marco." The gel that he usually uses in his hair to keep it looking human is starting to give, blonde strands just barely brushing his forehead. "Fucking princess," he breathes. 

Did I hear him right? "What?"

Jean has his head tipped back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "I said-" He stills his thrusts and peers coyly into my eyes. I can feel my stomach knotting up in the best of ways. "Princess."

A shiver ran through my body, and I clench around him. "Oh god, keep saying that."

He smirks at me and pushes my thighs farther back so that he can lean over me, his lips hovering by my ear. His hips pick up their rhythmic pace again, faster this time. "Looked so good in that shirt I bought you today, princess. Showed off all my favorite parts." Jean's hand passes over my shoulders, my chest, my stomach. His voice was rough, his pleasure so clear. "Didn't show off this part though." He pushes me up further so that my back presses against the pillows, allowing him to shift his weight from his arms to his haunches. I'm practically on his lap. His hand wraps my cock, and he strokes his knuckle along the vein that runs up the underside.

My hand finds his shoulder, pulling him closer so that I can kiss him hard and long. And perhaps rake my nails down his back when he nips my bottom lip. The entire time his hand doesn't leave my dick, running up and down the length at a pace to match his thrusts. 

"You know, those people next door moved out. Vacant apartment next door," he gasps in between frantic kisses. 

We live at the end of the hallway, on the top floor, so the only people we have to worry about hearing us are the ones in the apartment below us and next to us. With the people who lived next to us gone, I'm quite inclined to let myself be a little noisy. Especially because I've seen the look on Jean's face when I get noisy, and I'm partial to that look.

I let myself moan softly, looking up at his face through my lashes.

"C'mon, I like loud princesses," he said, pumping his hand faster and stroking my tip with his thumb.

I gasp; he knows how sensitive the tip is for me. How deliciously, wonderfully sensitive. I groan _loudly_ and buck my hips into his hand. A cascade of "please" and "oh god" is falling from my lips. "I'm so close."

It only takes one more circle with his thumb before I'm just gone. All arching back and silent shudders and taut muscles as my orgasm floods my body. I know I'm making a mess of the both of us right now, but I can't be bothered to worry over it.

Jean is cursing and stirring his hips, grinding into me. I know he's unbearably close. Just as I begin to come down, my body damp and trembling, Jean cries out and tenses, gripping bruises into my thighs.

"'S so good," he pants.

I wait for him to finish, watching the way his brow knits into creases in pleasure while my breathing evens out.

He pulls out slowly and sighs shakily. His hands prop behind him on the silk sheets.

"Oh my god." I shift forward and straddle his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I love you."

"I know," I murmur softly into his ear. "I love you too."

"Let me see it again."

I know what he's talking about. One of my arms slips from around his neck, and I hold my hand out between us, the soft glow of all the candles reflecting subtly off of the ring.

"You don't know how good it feels to see that on your finger."

"I know how good it feels to wear it on my finger." I'm quiet for a second. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"When you said I'm the only person you can imagine waking up next to for the rest of your life."

Jean lays back, turning so that we're both laying on our sides facing each other. He kisses my nose sweetly. "Hell yeah I meant it."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was intended to be in celebration of Marco's birthday, which was June 16th, but I got kind of wrapped up in it and typed about 20 pages. So, this is going up half a month late (I'm sorry, I'm sorry). But, hopefully you still enjoyed it, even if it's a bit belated!
> 
> As per usual, I'm extremely grateful to _anyone_ who reads my stuff and offers a kudos or a comment or anything. It really means a lot to know that people are even reading this, so thank you so, so much. I actually kind of built this off of an AU from a previous jeanmarco one shot I wrote for the "30 Day NSFW OTP Challenge" (which I still haven't finished) called "Naked Cuddles" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2358521/chapters/5205344).
> 
> *blows kisses*


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